


vegas lights

by buckybarnes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 NHL Awards, Accidental Marriage, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnes/pseuds/buckybarnes
Summary: “Bob,” Nick says slowly, “did I marry someone last night?”





	vegas lights

**Author's Note:**

> so [this](https://twitter.com/BlueJacketsNHL/status/877309184978452481) happened and i essentially blacked out and when i woke up i'd written this.
> 
> ALSO, let's give it up for sergei "bob" "TWO VEZINAS" bobrovsky am i right!!!

Nick wins both of the awards that he’s nominated for. They’re not the Stanley Cup, he knows that, but it still feels good to win something. He stumbles through his acceptance speeches, tries to not act too starstruck in front of Messier. He shakes hands and smiles for photos.

When he finally escapes down the hallway, he’s greeted by another crowd, men in suits that he knows he’s supposed to thank. But in the middle of them there’s Bob, smiling like the fucking sun. Nick grins, goes in for a handshake at first, and what the hell is he thinking? He wraps Bob up in a hug, a _real_ hug, and he’s smiling and laughing.

“Proud of you,” Bob mumbles into his shoulder. God, Nick missed him so much.

Nick pulls away sooner than he wants to, but they’re not the only ones here. He turns away and starts shaking hands, accepting congratulations.

He’s still smiling.

\---

Nick is drunk.

So, so drunk.

Bob had invited him out to celebrate, and what, was he going to say no? It’s _Vegas._

And Nick was going to stick to beer, keep it light, but Bob had kept putting weird neon-colored shots in front of him. He’d also been slamming equally bright cocktails with what Nick assumed was an equally high alcohol content. He thought Russians were supposed to drink vodka.

So now they’re both sitting at a bar in the hotel casino, giggling like morons. Nick’s glad that they’re not expected to look professional.

“You know, you’re my best friend,” Nick says. He’s got an arm slung around Bob’s shoulder.

Bob laughs, sucks at the straw of a cocktail glass that Nick is pretty sure has been empty for a while.

“Really love you, Nick,” Bob says, a dopey grin on his face. “Love you so much, I would marry you.”

Nick laughs at that, really laughs. “I would marry you too, Bob,” he says. “Love you.”

And then Bob’s eyes get wide, like he’s just had the most brilliant idea in the history of mankind. He grabs Nick by the shoulders. “We should do it,” Bob says.

Nick blinks. “Do what?”

Bob rolls his eyes, shoves Nick’s shoulder. “Get _married_ , silly.”

Nick furrows his brow. “Wait, you’re serious? Bob, seriously?”

Bob’s grinning like a maniac now. “Why not? I love you. You love me, you said. We’re amazing together, everyone knows. It’s perfect.”

Nick’s not usually one to make rash decisions. He _knows_ that if he were sober he’d take more time to think it through. But the way Bob’s grinning at him, like he’s the happiest guy on the fucking planet, Nick kind of really wants to marry him.

Fuck it. “Alright,” Nick says. “Let’s do it.”

Bob throws his hands up in the air, knocking his empty glass over onto the bar with the motion. “Let’s do it!” He shouts, throwing his arms around Nick’s neck, nearly toppling them both onto the floor. Nick grabs onto the bar to steady himself.

Nick grabs Bob’s hand and pulls him off the barstool. “Let’s go get married!” He yells, probably a little too loudly. Bob doesn’t seem to mind.

\---

Forty minutes later, Bob and Nick are walking out of a place called “24/7 Wedding Express.” They’re holding hands, hands that are each wearing rings that the officiant had assured them were “mostly real gold.”

Bob’s giggling, hasn’t stopped giggling the whole time, and Nick really, really likes him right now.

“Hey, Bob,” Nick says softly.

Bob spins around, and the way he’s smiling kind of puts all the Vegas lights to shame. That’s why, Nick thinks, he can’t be blamed for kissing Bob in the middle of the sidewalk.

Bob makes a surprised noise, but kisses back enthusiastically. They hadn’t kissed during the ceremony; when the officiant had pronounced them married, they had just laughed, falling against each other. Nick mentally kicks himself for that. Kissing Bob is _awesome_. He can’t believe that he’s never done it before.

Nick only pulls back because he has to yawn. Bob laughs. It’s past 3:00 AM, and Nick’s not young anymore.

“Come on, sleepy,” Bob says, grabbing his hand again. “Get you to bed.”

The last thing Nick remembers is Bob leading him back to the hotel.

\---

Nick is very, very hungover.

His head is throbbing, and he rolls over in bed - he’d made it to a bed somehow, that’s nice - and throws an arm over his eyes. And then he hears a cough.

He jerks up in the bed immediately, looking around the room wildly. It’s his hotel room; his bag is still on the chair beside the bed where he had left it.

“Nick,” says a Russian accent, and Nick whips his head around towards the direction of the sound.

Bob is sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room by the television, eyeing him intently, and Nick exhales and rubs his eyes.

“Jesus, Bob, you scared me,” Nick sighs. He tosses his legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly. He blinks a couple of times, attempting to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks for getting me back here. I was pretty out of it last night.”

“We should discuss something,” Bob says, sounding nervous.

Nick groans. “Bob, can it wait? My head seriously feels like it’s gonna explode -”

“Look at your hand,” Bob interrupts.

Nick blinks again. His hands are in his lap, and he holds them both out in front of his face, examining them. It takes him about half a second to notice what Bob’s talking about.

“Oh, shit,” Nick says.

On Nick’s left hand there is what appears to be a very cheaply made gold ring. If Nick didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked a hell of a lot like a wedding ring.

“Bob,” Nick says slowly, “did I marry someone last night?” Bob nods once, quickly, and Nick groans again. “God, who the fuck would I _marry_?”

“Nick,” Bob says carefully, “what do you remember about last night?”

Nick drags a hand down his face. “I remember being with you and drinking a ton of weird, fruity shots. And I remember you telling me that you love me. And…”

Bob clears his throat, and Nick looks up at him. Bob’s holding up his hand. And he’s wearing a matching fake gold ring.

“Oh, shit,” Nick repeats.

“Yeah,” Bob says, laughing. He looks genuinely pleased about the whole thing. But he must notice the look on Nick’s face because he frowns, asks, “What’s wrong, Nick?”

“Bob, we can’t be _married_ ,” Nick says, standing up.

Bob crosses his arms. “Why not?”

Nick is baffled. “Seriously? Uh, because there are probably rules against it? And then there’s the obvious. Why would we be married, Bob? We’re not even _together_. We clearly weren't thinking.”

And that was the wrong thing to say, because Bob looks like Nick just slapped him. He stands up from the armchair and twists the ring off of his finger, dropping it.

“Maybe you think more carefully next time,” Bob mutters, and he sulks out of the hotel room.

Nick thinks about following him, but he’s not sure how to fix this yet. He picks up Bob’s discarded ring and stuffs it into his pocket.

\---

Nick is seated directly behind Bob at the awards ceremony. He’s just relieved that he won’t have to make eye contact with him after that morning.

The ceremony is awkward and uncomfortable, as these things always are. When Manganiello makes a joke about Bob as a stripper, Nick can’t help but giggle. It’s a great mental image, really.

And then it’s time for them to announce the Vezina winner, and Nick’s holding his breath. When they finally, finally call Bob’s name, Nick can’t help it; he grabs Bob by the shoulders, shakes him, gives him a pat on the back. It’s not a hug, but it’s something.

Bob looks down. Nick can’t see his face, but he thinks that Bob’s smiling.

Bob makes his speech, thanks his family and teammates for believing in him, and Nick has never felt so proud of anyone in his life. He’s not exactly sure why.

Oh, yeah.

That’s his fucking _husband._

And now Nick has some stuff to fix.

\---

Nick waits a while after the ceremony is over, figures Bob will have the press to deal with. He mills around the hotel, considers grabbing a drink at the bar but thinks better of it. When he finally knocks on the door of Bob’s room, there’s no response. At first he thinks that Bob could just be ignoring him, but Nick doesn’t think hiding is very much like Bob, so he decides to look elsewhere.

Nick finally finds Bob sitting on a bench out in front of the hotel. He must see Nick coming because he turns his head away.

Nick sighs. “Bob, I wanna talk,” he says, and when Bob doesn’t tell him to go away, Nick sits down beside him on the bench.

It’s dark out, but it’s still stiflingly hot. Nick’s still pretty amazed that they’re going to play hockey here.

“I meant what I said, when I was drunk,” Nick starts. Bob glances over at him, just barely. Nick takes that as encouragement to keep going. “All of it. And it was stupid of me to act like I didn’t. I really love you, Bob. You’re the best person I know, fuck, anyone would be lucky to be married to you,” Nick sighs, rubbing his face with his hand. “Bob, stand up.”

Bob still looks a bit suspicious, but he stands, slowly, and Nick gets up too.

And then Nick’s going down on one knee and pulling Bob’s cheap ring out of his pocket. “Sergei Bobrovsky,” he asks, “will you be my husband? Like, for real this time?”

Bob’s eyebrows are raised and his mouth is hanging open slightly. He doesn’t do anything for a moment, and Nick thinks he’s going to say no, tell Nick that this whole thing is stupid and -

Bob grabs Nick by both hands, pulling him up close to his chest and then Bob kisses him, winding his arms around Nick’s neck just like before. Nick decides that kissing Bob is even better the second time around.

When they break apart, Nick can feel Bob smiling.

“You are kind of a terrible husband,” Bob mutters against Nick’s lips. “But I love you anyway.”

Nick grins, leans back in close to Bob to press their noses together.

“I’m glad I married you,” he murmurs, and Bob giggles. Nick really loves it when Bob giggles.

“Do we have to buy silverware and curtains now? Boring, married life things?” Bob asks, still smiling.

Nick looks thoughtful. “Well, we could. I do have a rewards card at Bed Bath & Beyond.” Bob rolls his eyes. “But you know,” Nick continues, lowering his voice to what he hopes is sexy, “there’s something else that married couples like to do.”

“I _do_ have fancy hotel room for one more night,” Bob says, rocking back on his heels.

“Lead the way, Mr. Foligno,” Nick grins, taking Bob’s hand and lifting it to his lips to kiss it.

“You are Mr. Bobrovsky, but we discuss this later,” Bob mutters, and when he tugs Nick back towards the hotel lobby, Nick doesn’t have to be told twice.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/stantiers) for hockey-induced misery!


End file.
